[This
narrative has been prepared for publication in The Quarterly by
Rudolph Kleberg, Jr. See Quarterly for April, 1898, p. 297, and for
October, 1898, p. 170. Editor Quarterly.]

When my
father came to Texas, I was a child of eleven or twelve years. My
father's name was Friedrich Ernst. He was by profession a
book-keeper, and emigrated from the duchy of Oldenburg. Shortly
after landing in New York he fell in with Mr. Fordtran, a tanner and
a countryman of his. A book by a Mr. Duhde, setting forth the
advantages of the new State of Missouri, had come into their hands,
and they determined to settle in that State. While in New Orleans,
they heard that every settler who came to Texas with his family
would receive a league and labor of land from the Mexican
government. This information induced them to abandon their first
intention.

We set sail
for Texas in the schooner Saltillo, Captain Haskins. Just as we were
ready to start, a flatboat with a party of Kentuckians and their
dogs was hitched on to our vessel, the Kentuckians coming aboard and
leaving their dogs behind on the flatboat. The poor animals met a
grievous fate. Whenever the wind arose and the waves swept over the
boat, they would howl and whine most piteously. One night the line
parted, and we never saw them again.

We were
almost as uncomfortable as the dogs. The boat was jammed with
passengers and their luggage so that you could hardly find a place
on the floor to lie down at night. I firmly believe that a strong
wind would have drowned us all. In the bayou, the schooner often
grounded, and the men had to take the anchor on shore and pull her
off. We landed at Harrisburg, which consisted at that time of about
five or six log houses, on the 3rd of April, 1831. Captain Harris
had a sawmill, and there was a store or two, I believe. Here we
remained five weeks, while Fordtran went ahead of us and entered a
league, where now stands the town of Industry.

"While on
our way to our new home, we stayed in San Felipe for several days at
Whiteside Tavern. The courthouse was about a Kile out of town, and
here R. M. Williamson, who was the alcalde, had his office. I saw
him several times while I was here, and remember how I wondered at
his crutch and wooden leg. S. F. Austin was in Mexico at the time,
and Sam Williams, his private secretary, gave my father a title to
land which he had originally picked out for himself. My father had
to kiss the Bible and promise, as soon as the priest should arrive,
to become a Catholic. People were married by the alcalde, also, on
the promise that they would have themselves reunited on the arrival
of the priest. But no one ever became Catholic, though the priest,
Father Muldoon, arrived promptly. The people of San Felipe made him
drunk and sent him back home.

My father
was the first German to come to Texas with his family. Hertzner, a
tailor, and Grossmeyer, a young German, at Matagorda, both
unmarried, were in Texas when my father came. There was also a
Pennsylvanian, whom they called Dutch Henry, and a Dr. Adolph v.
Zornow, had traveled through Texas, but did not stay long. My father
wrote a letter to a friend, a Mr. Schwarz, in Oldenburg, which was
published in the local newspaper. This brought a number of
Oldenburgers and Münsterländers, with their families, to Texas in
1834.1

After we
had lived on Fordtran's place for six months, we moved into our own
house. This was a miserable little hut, covered with straw and
having six sides, which were made out of moss. The roof was by no
means water-proof, and we often held an umbrella over our bed when
it rained at night, while the cows came and ate the moss. Of course,
we suffered a great deal in the winter. My father had tried to build
a chimney and fireplace out of logs and clay, but we were afraid to
light a fire because of the extreme combustibility of our dwelling.
So we had to shiver. Our shoes gave out, and we had to go barefoot
in winter, for we did not know how to make moccasins. Our supply of
clothes was also insufficient, and we had no spinning wheel, nor did
we know how to spin and weave like the Americans. It was
twenty-eight miles to San Felipe, and, besides, we had no money.
When we could buy things, my first calico dress cost 50 cents per
yard. No one can imagine what a degree of want there was of the
merest necessities of life, and it is difficult for me now to
understand how we managed to live and get along under the
circumstances. Yet we did so in some way. We were really better
supplied than our neighbors with household and farm utensils, but
they knew better how to help themselves. Sutherland 2 used his razor
for cutting kindling, killing pigs, and cutting leather for
moccasins. My mother was once called to a neighbor's house, five
miles from us, because one of the little children was very sick. My
mother slept on a deer skin, without a pillow, on the floor. In the
morning, the lady of the house poured water over my mother's hands
and told her to dry her face on her bonnet. At first we had very
little to eat. We ate nothing but corn bread at first. Later, we
began to raise cow peas, and afterwards my father made a fine
vegetable garden. My father always was a poor huntsman. At first, we
grated our corn until my father hollowed out a log and we ground it,
as in a mortar. We had no cooking-stove, of course, and baked our
bread in the only skillet we possessed. The ripe corn was boiled
until it was soft, then grated and baked. The nearest mill was
thirty miles off.

As I have
already said, the country was very thinly settled. Our three
neighbors, Burnett, Dougherty, and Sutherland, lived in a radius of
seven miles. San Felipe was twenty-eight miles off, and there were
about two houses on the road thither. In consequence, there was no
market for anything you could raise, except for cigars and tobacco,
which my father was the first in Texas to put on the market. He sold
them in San Felipe to a Frenchman, D'Orvanne,3 who had a store
there, but this was several years afterwards. We raised barely what
we needed, and we kept it. Around San Felipe certainly it was
different, and there were some beautiful farms in the vicinity.

Before the
war, there was a school in Washington, taught by a Miss Trest, where
the Daughertys sent their daughter, boarding her in the city. Of
course, we did not patronize it. We lived in our doorless and
windowless six-cornered pavilion about three years.

When the
war broke out, my father at first intended quietly to remain at his
home. But the Mexicans had induced the Kickapoo Indians to revolt,
and he was warned by Captains Lester, York, and Pettus against the
savages. We then set out with the intention of crossing the Sabine
and seeking safety in the States. When we arrived at the Brazos, we
found so many people assembled at the ferry that it would have been
three days before the one small ferry-boat could have carried us
over the stream. The roads were almost impassable. So my father
pitched his camp in the middle of the Brazos bottom near Brenham.
Here we remained until after the Battle of San Jacinto.

Some of the
Germans fared ill on account of their tardy flight. Mrs. Goegens and
her children were captured by the Indians and taken to the border of
Texas, where American traders ransomed the lady, hut had not
sufficient money to purchase the children. These remained with the
Indians. The Mexicans captured Stoehlke and intended to hang him.
Upon his using the name of Jesus Christ, they released him. Kaspar
Simon was also made a prisoner, but released upon exhibiting his
ignorance of the whereabouts of the Texan army.

After the
war, times were hard. However, my father had buried a good many
things and had in this way succeeded in keeping them from the
Mexicans. He had placed two posts a considerable distance apart, and
had buried his treasures just midway between them. The posts had
both been pulled out and holes dug near them, but our things had not
been found. Our house and garden had been left unharmed, though
those of our neighbors had been destroyed. The explanation of this
is probably to be found in the fact that the Münsterländers, who
were Catholics, had brought all their holy relics to our place and
had set up several crosses in our garden.

Just as we
had returned from the "runaway scrape," and had scarcely unhitched
our horses, Vrels came running up and told us that a party of
Mexicans had taken his horse. Ellison, York, and John Pettus, who
had just returned from the army, galloped after the robbers, and,
after York had killed one of them, recovered the horse.

We had
plenty of corn and bacon. My brother and John Pettus brought back a
few of our cattle from Gonzales. Before the war, there had been very
little trouble; but afterwards, there was a good deal of fighting in
our neighborhood, especially about election time.

A short
time afterwards, my father began keeping a boardinghouse and had a
large building constructed for that purpose. He tore down the
six-cornered pavilion, over the protest of my mother, who wanted to
keep it as a sort of memento of former days. Many German immigrants
accordingly came to our house. Nearly all managed very badly at
first, using all their money before they had learned to accommodate
themselves to their new surroundings.

Industry
was founded about this time and named by Benninghoffer after a
lively dispute. My father was justice of the peace for quite a time,
and later was engaged in general merchandising.

I remember
very well the coming of the German colonists who founded New
Braunfels and Fredericksburg. My brother Fritz accompanied Solms in
the capacity of interpreter and guide. The prince had a considerable
retinue of horsemen, dressed mostly like himself, after the fashion
of German officers. Among the company were an architect, a cook, and
a professional hunter (jaeger). Whenever they came to a good niece
of road, the prince would say, "Now let us gallop," and then the
whole party would charge down the prairie. The hunter was commanded
to kill a deer, but did not succeed, and my brother rode out and
killed one, causing much pleasure to the prince.

While on
the same journey, the party stopped at a farmer's, who brought out
watermelons and told them to help themselves. My brother cut a
watermelon in two, took a piece, and went out into the yard to eat,
whereupon one of the officers rebuked him severely, asking him how
he could dare to eat when His Highness had not yet tasted.

When the
prince was endeavoring to establish the Karlshafen (Indianola), and
he and his party were making soundings, the boat grounded. The
prince was in great distress and insisted that the only thing to do
was to wait for the tide. My brother then took off his clothes, got
out, and pushed the boat off the sandbank. I also remember that the
prince's cook came to my mother for information in regard to Texas
dishes.

I lived in
Industry until I married Louis von Roeder.' Nearly all my time was
spent in attending to our household, and I had little opportunity
for traveling about. I was not in San Felipe after the war.

1. Robt. J.
Kleberg, ST., writes: "We had accidentally got hold of a letter
written by a gentleman, who had emigrated some time before us from
the Duchy of Oldenburg and who lived where now is Industry, Texas,
Fritz Ernst, by name. In this letter he had described Texas, then a
province of Mexico, in very glowing colors, mentioning also the
advantages offered to immigrants by the Mexican government, namely,
a league and labor for every man with a family and ½ league for
every single man. This letter caused us to change our first
intention to go to one of the northern states and to choose Texas
for our future home. At the time we left, hardly anything was known
of Texas, except that my ideas and those of my party were formed by
the above mentioned letter, in which Texas was described as a
beautiful country, with enchanting scenery and delightful climate,
similar to that of Italy, the most fruitful soil and republican
government, with unbounded personal and political liberty, free from
so many disadvantages and evils of old countries. Prussia, our
former home, smarted at the time we left under a military despotism.
We were enthusiastic lovers of republican institutions, full of
romantic notions, and believed to find in Texas, before all other
countries, the blessed land of our hopes." This is taken from notes
written by him in 1876. R. K., Jr.

2. See next
paragraph.

3. [This
man's full name was Alexander Bourgeois D'Orvanne. He afterwards
played a prominent part in the founding of the German colonies of
New Braunfels and Fredericksburg in 1843-46 by the Mainzer
Adelsverein. See Entwickelungsgeschichte der Deutschen Kolonie
Friedrichsburg by Robert Penniger, Fredericksburg, Texas, 1896. Mrs.
Rosa Kleberg tells me that her party was very hospitably entertained
by him when they were on their way from Harrisburg to their farm at
Cat Spring in 1835. He had a fine general mercantile business. He
impressed her as a very estimable gentleman. R. K., Jr.]

Source: The Quarterly of the Texas State Historical
Association, Volume I, July 1897 to April 1898, Published by the
Association, 1898.